Unending Night
by StylingEquinox
Summary: Sequel to *Unsettled*: Irial tries to overcome Niall's newfound apathy as they continue to test the boundaries of their relationship. May overlap with some events in RS. Rated M for the guy/guy content in most chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the sequel to Unsettled. I'm not sure how long it will be yet, but do know that it overlaps with Radiant Shadows. I loved all of the feedback Unsettled got, and I would love to get some from this story as well. So please REVIEW! Darkest Demise will also be updated when inspiration strikes so please be patient. And on that note, I DO NOT own Wicked Lovely. Melissa MArr does, and she is the epic genius behind the madness of this series. I just enjoy her Dark Kings.**

**This story will also have sexy content (you'd now that if you read Unsettled), so you've been warned. -_-**

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><p>Irial wished that he could rejoice in how much closer he and Niall became after the bath they'd shared. He wished that he could reminisce about how wonderful his last moments with his Gancanagh had been, about how sweet their world was now that they were together. But he couldn't. Instead, he felt longing. And neglect.<p>

It had been several long weeks since Irial was able to touch Niall, and Irial was beginning to grow restless from waiting. Of late, their relationship had taken a turn for the worst, and Irial was unsure of what he'd done wrong. Niall hadn't caressed or hugged him for many days, and the few times after their baths when they had been intimate, Niall always seemed increasingly distant. The desire never touched his eyes, and afterwards he'd always appeared drawn in and indifferent. Sometimes, Irial wondered if Niall even cared at all when they made love. So for the last weeks, Irial had been treading carefully, not wanting to push his King because he was hesitant of his reaction. _Which is no place to be._

Yet Niall had blatantly said that he was tired of pretending. So why did pretending seem to be the only thing Niall was doing of late? He scarcely said anything to Irial but to solicit advice on how to deal with the court. Not once did he bring up _before_, and not once did he reciprocate Irial's tempting smiles or small brushes of affection.

_He's ignoring them._

And that part angered Irial the most. They were back to where they started- phantom emotions and a lack of touch. _And me with damned insatiable lust._ It also didn't help that they'd had a fight the day before.

Just yesterday, as they ate dinner in the greathall, Irial had not-so-discreetly suggested that they both retreat to his bedroom. Niall's reaction was not at all what Irial expected it to be. He'd expected some semblance of lust, some indication that Niall remembered their maddening pleasures a fortnight ago. Instead, Irial was faced with devout anger and aggression. _It was the blowup I'd been hoping to avoid._

Niall had abruptly stood up from the table, black eyes menacing as he glared down at Irial. "Why are you so fucking selfish?" he'd accused. "Was it not enough for me to allow you to live here again, to allow you to fucking touch me again, to allow you to be in my presence again, that you must ask for more? That you expect me to just pretend that everything is fine?"

Irial had been rendered speechless, his mouth unable to make a sensible response. He'd put down his wine glass and looked up at his King. "No, I'm not trying- Selfish? I thought this was what you wanted. No pretending, an actual relationship between us, Niall." His jaw tightened. "Unless you had no intention of keeping your word."

Niall shook his head and sighed. "Gods, you just don't understand, do you? Having forgiven you, yet knowing what you've done to me in the past. How hard it is to…" Niall paused, caught in his own tangle of emotions. "I can't just ignore it.

"I would never ask you to forget", Irial said in a voice that barely concealed the pain those memories conjured. " But you forgave. The truth in your words… They meant something."

Niall brusquely ignored Irial, and then said with cold precision, "You don't deserve my forgiveness."

Irial had bitten back the fear and sadness that was bubbling inside of him and tasted a sorrow to Niall's words, a tangled feeling of regret and love as the Dark King looked away from him.

Without thinking, Irial reached out to his King. "I thought that you were ready to let us be together again. I-"

"I'm not." The coldness in Niall's words had hit Irial hard in the chest. He completely ignored Irial's entreating gaze.

Irial swallowed hard and stood up, palms braced on the table. "Why?" It was all he'd said, the only broken word he could let fall from his lips without falling apart in front of Niall.

"I need not give you an explanation. I'm your King. Remember that." After seeing the aching look on Irial's face, Niall turned his back on his advisor.

Irial caught his arm. "No", he whispered with pain lacing his voice. "There is more to us, Niall. You know that." When Niall ignored him, he said more strongly, "You're letting your dammed guilt consume you. And that is not the way a Dark King rules."

Upset that Irial stated aloud what he was feeling, Niall grabbed Irial by the throat and pressed him to the faded rose wall of the greathall. Irritation showed in his eyes as he roughly slammed Irial harder into the wall. "It's over. Whatever we had is over." He tightened his hand around Irial's throat.

"No". Irial struggled to speak the word with Niall's body closely pressed to his, his hand around his neck, his scent intoxicating.

"Yes", Niall concluded almost sadly. "It is. So leave it be, and never speak of it again."

Irial's jaw tightened and the words came out as a strangled plea. "You know that I cannot do that, Niall."

Niall's eyes darkened infinitesimally. "Yes, you can. And you will. That was a command, Irial, not a favor. And as your King, when I give you a command, I expect it to be followed, understood?" After applying what he thought was enough pressure to intimidate Irial, he released his grip, leaving the former dark king more emotionally wounded than physically.

Almost inaudibly, Irial nodded. Then he'd watched Niall turn away and stalk from the greathall.

Ever since the fight, Irial couldn't help but ask himself if he'd been acting on self-centered agendas the past two weeks, if he indeed was selfish as Niall said he was. The guilt implicated in Niall's words made him feel unworthy of his Gancanagh's love or acceptance. It made him realize that even though Niall truly believed he'd forgiven Irial, feeling's of resentment still existed, and they hurt all the more when Niall admitted to them. Yet where did Niall's sudden change of heart come from? Niall was more angry than Irial ever remembered him being since Niall became the Dark King. _Was all of our love a lie, a wool pulled over our eyes that hid the obvious issues?_

If it was, Irial felt foolish and betrayed. He felt empty and alone. He felt unloved. And as he pulled on his dark cashmere sweater and leather pants, he felt increasingly lusty.

For two whole weeks, he hadn't tasted or touched anyone but Niall, and even now, Niall refused to have him. The closest he'd gotten to sating his desire was his visit to one of the many erotic nightclubs he owned that dealt in the back-door business he'd rather Niall not know about. The dancers and the sensual atmosphere was comforting, but even then, he hadn't indulged. He'd had the foolish notion in his head that Niall was more important.

_But not tonight_, Irial promised. Tonight he would indulge and try to forget Niall's rejection. Niall'd told him to go about as if their love never happened, so Irial would. Irial grabbed his cigarettes, lit one, and left the house in silence, the cool afternoon air whipping his hair. Then he headed out to seek entertainment elsewhere, hoping it would mend what was left of his heart.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews this story has recieved thus far. I look foward to more regarding this chapter. ^_^ So, this may take you by surprise, but this is one of the few chapters that involve Niall's POV. It's relatively brief compared to the last, but it was sort of spur-of-the-moment. Upon finishing this, you might also be able to get a clear idea of where this story is headed. I also don't own Wicked Lovely. Melissa Marr does. She's the innovator for my imagination. And I love her characters. :) Please REVIEW!**

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><p>Being emotionally torn was not something Niall enjoyed. In fact, he hated it. But he knew better than to trust Irial again. <em>Or at least, I should have known not to. <em>Now he was left berating his advisor and being an unkempt mess of irritation. Now he had to explain to Irial in such vague, emotionless words why their doomed relationship mustn't continue.

_And for that, I am a coward. A coward for not admitting to myself the truth, and a coward for committing to something and then reneging._

There was no way Niall could justify to himself his behavior towards Irial. Irial, who despite all of his misgivings, genuinely loved him. Niall tasted it. Every time they made love he tasted it, and at first he'd blamed it on the endorphin rush of sex, but after a while there were less and less excuses to hide behind.

_Yes, loved. _As if Irial would love him after all of the nastiness he was subjecting him to. But like a dumb fool, as he had for twelve centuries, even as Niall fervently ignored him, Irial continued to love blindly. So what would stop him now?

Niall turned away from the mirror where he'd been staring at his reflection. The face he'd seen was not his. It was too cold, too aloof, yet too close to breaking its calm mask. He was teetering on the brink of indifference and anger.

His now obsidian eyes, which to this day still had a way of frightening him, looked far too much like Irial's. And his hair, which he'd once worn shorn was now almost as long as it had once been; almost shoulder length. The unruly locks he usually kept from his face always managed to find their way back. He'd been thinking that perhaps the reason he grew out his hair was because Irial always like it long, but wouldn't admit that to himself.

_I shouldn't be doing things for Irial. _But he was, and that was the problem.

Niall turned down one of the house's innumerable corridors and tried to instead focus on court matters. He would need to have a gathering soon to talk abut Bannanach's relentless mutinies. He would also need to seek out Gabriel. But most of those affairs could wait. What he needed most at the moment was advice from Irial, but after their scuffle in the dining hall, Irial was nowhere to be found. _Which means I have to find him, and seeking him out personally is exactly what I wanted to avoid._

Niall stopped a nearby servant- _they all seem to be waiting on me day and night- _and asked her where Irial was.

The servant flinched, to his surprise, and said nothing. Niall's brow furrowed as he asked her again. Again, she ignored him, the fear in her eyes great. "Did you not hear me?" he repeated. "Where is Irial?"

When he stepped closer to her, his height intimidating, she finally spoke. "I am to not to tell you", she admitted with a bowed head. Her lip trembled. "He says that I shall not."

Niall's past aggression resurfaced. "But _I _am your King now. Not Irial. Where is he?"

The servant looked absolutely torn between her loyalty to her old king and to her new one. After what seemed like an eternity of contemplation, she finally said, "In Huntsdale there is a nightclub called "Electra". No other words were spoken, and Niall felt no need to push her for more details. He knew that Irial would not have told her much else about the nightclub if he didn't wish to be found easily. _Or at all._

Instead of feeling sympathy as he had earlier for Irial, Niall was now absolutely furious that he would dare instruct one of _Niall's_ faeries to refuse their _own_ Dark King. He was even more upset that Irial felt the need to keep secrets from him. It made Niall wonder how many more secrets Irial was still withholding.

Glaring at the servant to make sure she knew there would be a consequence to her lack of coordination, Niall said, "You are to answer me when I ask you a question. Never make that mistake again."

She fearfully swallowed and bowed her head.

_Yes,_ Niall decided._ The gathering can wait. _Grabbing his jacket and stepping into the windy night air, he sought out Irial, whose secretive and irksome behavior only added to the many mistrusts in their relationship.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter. I don't want to elaborate very much, except to say that it continues where chapter 2 left off. Thanks for the reviews, and I always love more. I don't own WL. Melissa Marr does, but I love using her Dark Kings. :) _REVIEW_ please.**

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><p>Miles away from Hunstdale and from his home, Irial found himself feeling weightless as he swayed to the heavy bass of the club. Club lights of neon hues made a skewed lightshow across the dance floor, but none of them hit him as he danced.<p>

He lifted another glass of sweetened scotch to his lips and drank heartily as he twirled another dancer in front of him. She was relatively taller than most girls Irial had seen and had short, auburn colored hair that matched the dangerous glint in her eyes. Her short sequin top exposed her tattooed midriff that had a slight pudge. Irial's eyes lingered slightly on the arch of her back that dropped down to her shapely behind and felt that tight feeling of lust in his stomach again.

"Electra", unlike some of the fey-oriented other clubs he visited, was not his. The lack of décor was definitely something he opposed in his establishments, but the club had both business and pleasure to offer him. _And Niall would hate me if he learned that I indulged either of them. _For one, "Electra" ran a series of illegal enterprises; whichever was being offered merely depended on the week. Tonight, however, prostitutes were about, blending with the crowd, offering treats to whomever would pay their fancy. "Electra' didn't particularly cater to humans, but that didn't stop Irial from imagining what he would do with those few humans were he not a gancanagh again.

Irial spun the girl around again, watching her laugh when he pulled her close. Cradling his drink in one hand and her in his free arm, he leaned down and licked her lips, which tasted like faery wine. Then he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Can you make me forget my troubles, Sweetheart?"

She nipped back at him and smiled. "Of course." Then, lacing his hand in hers, she towed him toward the dimly lit section of the club, far away from the lights and the dancers. A large divan was pressed against the back wall. Before she could comment, Irial had her back pressed to the wall, her legs around his waist. The moan she emitted made Irial even more lusty, and the mere idea of clothes started to chafe him. Her hand splayed in his hair as he slid his hands up her skirt. With skilled patience, he stroked her until she shuddered beneath him with a moan. When she pulled away from the kiss, her fear countered her amazement. "I've never been with a king before", she said breathlessly.

Irial grinned. "I'm not a king anymore." The wicked expression that came over her face told him what she wanted. So without any more talk, he silenced her with his lips.

Hoisting her up with his hands on her bottom, Irial deposited her on the divan and pulled his body atop of hers, watching her eyes as he left kisses along her exposed stomach. As if on cue, she pulled her shirt over her head and undid the clasp of her bra. Irial continued back up to her chest, sucking, tugging, and teasing. Her moans were making him more aggressive than usual.

_Where is my discipline? _he asked himself curiously. He seemed to be so starved of sex from Niall's lack of sentiment that he was losing his patience.

Nonetheless, he undid his pants, watching her as she stared unnervingly at his crotch. He was in the process of unzipping her skirt when someone grabbed him from behind and threw him into the opposite wall. The impact was so strong that, had he been human, he might have broken his back.

Irial landed with a thud, his heart pounding, his spine now hurting tremendously. But most of all, his desire was still unsated. His still-too-erect member was proof of that.

The man in front of him was partially to blame.

Niall stood in front of Irial, looking quite menacing in the dimly lit area, his hair falling into one eye as he stepped forward. Irial stared in surprise and irritation as Niall glared down at him.

Standing up and gritting his teeth, Irial growled at Niall. "What are you doing here?"

His king stepped closer to him, backing him into the wall. "I could ask you the same." A muscle leapt in the Dark King's jaw and only then was Irial aware of how upset Niall was. "'I'll stop keeping secrets, Niall'", the Dark King mimicked. "Do you not consider this a secret? Prostitution, Irial? Telling _my fey_ to betray me?"

"Niall, pl- " Irial opened his mouth to answer, but was rewarded by a slap so hard he tasted his own blood. There would definitely be a bruise.

"Don't fucking speak to me", Niall hissed, grabbing Irial by the neck of his shirt. "I'm tired of your deceit." While being forced to look into Niall's dark eyes, Irial was vaguely aware that Niall's shadows were a whirlwind of chaos around him, a mirror of the Dark King's emotions.

But this is what Irial wanted to avoid. Seeing Niall look at him with disgust and disdain hurt him inside, made him feel unworthy. When Niall hit him again, he showed little resistance. Instead, he accepted the pain that was being dealt to him.

"You continue to disobey me, yet you ask for my forgiveness. You can't have both, Irial." The distraught tone of Niall's voice made Irial reach out to him, only to be shoved away.

"I can barely stand to look at you."

For a time, the Dark King turned his back on his once-enemy, once-friend and lit himself a cigarette. Without looking at Irial, he said, "Don't come back to the house."

The impact of those words hit Irial so hard in the chest that he staggered. "Please, Niall. Don't do-"

"My word is final, Irial". The look Niall gave Irial was one not of a friend, but of a King. A look that could not be challenged.

So when Niall, still visibly shaking with anger, parted though the crowd, Irial let him with a heaviness in his heart. Unable to stop the emotions coursing through himself, Irial slid down the cold wall behind him and sat on the club floor, his fingers nervously lighting a cigarette.

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	4. Chapter 4

**This is chapter 4! It's Niall's POV and takes place where the last left off._ REVIEW_ please, as they both motivate my writing and tell me how the story is being percieved! I don't own Wicked lovely. Melissa Marr does.**

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><p>When Niall left Electra, he was seeing red, his mind spinning. The more he thought back to Irial's deceit, the rage entered his mind. He was more upset than he wanted to be and more than logic told him he should be, and as if drifting into a state of subconscious, he was losing ground. The mortals that walked the streets were chafing him with their presence. The fey who lingering on the city sidewalks were an irritating sight.<p>

And all the while, through the anger and frustration and guilt, Niall was afraid. He was afraid of what changes his feelings toward Irial would bring, afraid of how infuriated he was, afraid of hurting someone innocent because of it.

But he was afraid of himself, and that disturbed him more than anything.

The fear finally became too much, and he stopped himself by leaning on the wall of an alley for support. His heart was a rapid crescendo as he rested against the damp bricks; his breaths puffs of smoke in the dark. He put his face in his hands, thinking only about his own foolishness.

He had trusted Irial again, only to be burned. _And I knew this would happen, but like an idiot I clung blindly to hope. _It was foolish of Niall to believe him, to believe that Irial could change, and he hated himself for not being able to prevent it or be a dominating king. _Were I a good king Irial would stay in his place. He wouldn't question or disobey me._

Niall sighed. _But I give him privilege. Whenever I scold him, he enjoys it. He laughs at it. And I _let_ him._

Niall ran a hand through his hair, feeling as though he would rip it out in any minute. _He must learn. But is this the best way?_ Torn with decisions he shouldn't have to make, Niall stared idly at the night sky. The stars were out, and they had a calming effect on him. As his breathing slowed, his thoughts gained clarity.

Niall was far too unnerved to go back home, and he definitely didn't want to explain the decisions he was making to Gabriel. With not many other options, Niall went to visit the only faery he trusted without a doubt.

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><p>Seth's train yard was desolate as Niall approached it. Most fey avoided such a large amount of iron, but being the Dark King gave Niall a special privilege. Colorful plants and metalwork sculptures adorned the train's entrance, made more stunning in the dark. A chrysanthemum stared back at him invitingly. Niall brushed his thumb over one of the many flower petals, only to watch the flower shrivel and die from his touch. He frowned.<p>

Before Niall could fully mourn the loss of the plant, Seth was already at the door, looking as darkly beautiful as always. The High Court faery's moonlit skin and dark hair contrasted wonderfully with his sleep-red lips and curious expression.

"Hey, Niall." His now-fey voice was akin to the husky sound of broken glass and wind chimes. When Seth opened the door more fully to let Niall to step inside, Niall was aware that Seth was wearing grey pajama shorts and not much else. He tried not to visibly show his discomfort at the sight of Seth's mostly bare legs. _I had woken him up; It would only make sense that he would be… indecent._

Niall sat down in the lounge area of the train car as Seth went to the kitchen to procure some drinks. Niall glanced around the room to pass time. Boomer was resting in his terrarium, and the lights were dimmed.

When Seth came back with a beer and a cup of tea, Niall blurted, "I know the hour is late, but I really need to speak to you." He felt wrong for coming to Seth's residence so late at night with problems the boy probably couldn't effectively help him with anyway.

Seth arched a pierced eyebrow. "Okay." He sat down in one of the plush chairs, playing with his lip ring as he watched Niall, who almost looked afraid. "Spill."

Niall cleared his throat. He took a swig of the beer and allowed the moment to stretch until the air was pregnant with uncertainty. "It's Irial. He isn't… obeying me."

Seth looked thoughtful for a moment. "It must not be his usual disobedience, or else you wouldn't be here, asking me for help."

Niall calmly lit a cigarette so as not to show how worried he was. Seth let out a grunt of irritation as he slid a metal ashtray to Niall. Finally, Niall admitted, "He keeps secrets from me."

"But you knew that, did you not?" Some months before they'd had a similar conversation about Irial's secret-keeping.

"I did." Niall closed his eyes and sighed. "But he said he would stop. Be more honest."

Seth bit the inside of his cheek and frowned. Niall could taste his discomfort. "So what do you want to do about it? You are the Dark King."

Niall opened his eyes. When he spoke, his words were sad. "Yes. I am. I am what he made me." When Seth didn't respond to that, Niall took a sip of the brew and idly watched Seth toy with his lip ring, entranced by the motion of his tongue touching the ball of the ring.

When Niall had been staring too long, Seth gave him an odd expression. His voice was throaty. "Niall, are you alright?"

Niall took his eyes away from his friend for a moment, mortified for being sexually attracted to Seth's mundane actions. _He's my friend. My only true friend. _Niall was surprised with himself; he knew he was being improper. He shouldn't have been staring at his friend's legs or wondering how Seth's mouth tasted. His bout with Irial had his emotions in a tangle.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was thinking."

Seth sat back in the chair and drank more tea. His eyes observed Niall as he contemplated the situation. "Irial said he would be more honest with you, but what if he already is? What if he's being as honest as he can at the moment- for him at least?"

Niall tilted his head at Seth's idea. "Perhaps he is, but that doesn't stop the anger I feel every time I find out proof of new deceit."

Seth grinned. "Well you do have a temper", he joked.

Niall rolled his eyes.

Seth shrugged. "Meditate then, like you used to. That usually works." Then his tone grew more serious. "Unless… you want to banish him from Cour-"

"No", Niall interrupted. "That's out of the question." He sighed in frustration, his emotions a mess. "I need him too much. He can't leave."

When Niall looked up, he saw a curious expression on Seth's face, but his friend quickly disregarded it. If Seth heard the desperation in his voice, he chose to ignore it.

Instead, Seth said, "Well, try to work things out, Niall. That's my advice. I cannot think of much else, as this is unlike any… relationship… I've dealt with." He gave Niall an playfully entreating look and yawned. "Think on it when you go to bed."

Niall still felt undecided, but seeing no sure answer yet, he nodded nonetheless. He put out his cigarette. When Seth stood up to retreat to his room he said, "Can I sleep here for the night; what's left of it?"

Obviously tired, Seth nodded. "You can have the couch." Then the mortal-but-not-mortal boy said goodnight and retreated to his bedroom.

All of the anger Niall had felt earlier was making him tired, and Seth's nearly helpful conversation was taking a toll on him, making his decision even harder to make. With sleep heavy on his lids, Niall grabbed two throw pillows and made himself comfortable on the couch, where he slept for many hours.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Here's the next chapter. It's Irial's POV.**

**I don't own WL, Melissa Marr does. I just adore her characters.****Please REVIEW! **

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><p>Irial found that having several residences around the city was a fortunate thing, seeing that he was now unwelcome in his own house. <em>Again.<em> He had more than a few suites and penthouses throughout the state, like the one where he was currently staying. After Niall had both lashed out at him and banned him from his own house, he was feeling testy and irritated, so he'd done the one thing he always did to wind down; indulge.

The penthouse was one of his more luxurious homes. It had wall-to-wall windows that overlooked the city and a spacious marble tub and shower. The walls had gold trimmings like the French doors of the balcony and the majority of the furniture was frosted glass and dark leather. In many ways, he'd had it interior designed to remind him of his own home, to have the textures and fabrics he'd come to relish over the centuries.

Irial stared over the balcony at the bustling city, watching the mortals go about their daily lives as if nothing sinister was watching them from unseen shadows. The morning sunlight spilled overhead, casting a white light over the suite. He drank more coffee, enjoying the bitter taste against his tongue.

Niall was still on his mind.

Even though he would have much rather forgotten what happened, he was unable to. His King was forever etched into his thoughts. And knowing how stubborn Niall was, Irial knew that he might not be invited to the house for a long, long while.

He turned away from the balcony abruptly, bored from watching mortals. He instead turned to the open French doors to survey his handiwork. A half-clothed girl with long blonde hair slept contentedly on the chaise lounge, her brunette friend asleep in a mass of silk sheets on the plush black carpet. A third girl was wrapped in those same sheets.

Two of them were Keenan's beloved Summer girls, who'd all but begged to go home with him when he'd gone to the Rath & Ruins. _Our King won't know, _they'd promised, even though they both looked excited by the idea. They were intrigued by him, it seemed. Intrigued by the darkness and danger that clung to him, that Keenan lacked, so he fed their appetites the way Keenan hadn't.

Irial wasn't rude enough to wake them up; he knew the effect his bed play had on women- mortal and faery alike. So instead, he'd made himself a cup of coffee, pulled on a satin robe, and waited for them to rouse.

Irial was walking over to the bar to replace his coffee with a shot of rum when he heard the door open.

Without turning around, he sensed who it was. The flurry of thoughts were enough to catch his attention.

"Gancanagh", Irial mused as he poured his rum, "I've been awaiting your arrival."

When he turned around, Niall had an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes surveying the room.

"What are you doing, Irial?" Niall asked.

Irial eyes widened to feign surprise. "Now? Oh, at the moment, I'm drinking." When Niall's eyes narrowed, Irial grinned widely. "But last night was a different tale in itself."

Niall shook his head so as not to notice the naked women lying around- particularly the Summer girls- but as a result, noticed that Irial was scantily clad himself. The former Dark King was wearing a loosely tied dark robe that exposed his chest and stopped mid-thigh, and Niall felt increasingly uncomfortable not knowing whether or not he was wearing anything beneath it.

Although Niall's face was hard as stone and he was walling up his emotions, Irial could sense Niall's discomfort as they both silently observed each other.

Irial noted that his King looked magnificent: Niall was clad in a tight-fitting black T-shirt and jeans that encased his legs. Niall had also decided on wearing a chain around his neck. It was a necklace he'd seen once on Seth before.

When the silence passed, Irial pursed his lips speculatively. "I see you've been visiting your boy-toy of late."

Niall's voice was tight when he spoke, his hand self-consciously touching the chain around his throat. "Seth is not a toy; he's my friend. Although you've never understood the difference seeing as you're a manipulative bastard."

"Perhaps." Irial slowly swirled his rum, watching the irritation flutter in Niall's eyes. Then he sat his glass down and got to the point. "So, why are you here, Niall? If I recall, I'm on 'punishment' for my misdeeds." Irial stepped away from the bar.

"And you still are. I haven't forgiven you." Niall took a step forward and caught Irial's gaze. "But, I need your counsel, and I won't get it if you're _here_."

Irial could barely suppress his smug grin as he approached his king. "So I'm allowed to come home." It wasn't a question.

Niall scowled momentarily. "Only if you show respect for me. I'm the King now, not you."

Irial smiled, his mouth a sensual dare. He dropped down on his knees in a submissive gesture. "You have my word. I am forever yours to command."

Niall rolled his eyes, but approached the kneeling dark faery. When he was close enough to feel Irial's bare knees touching his boots, he grabbed a handful of Irial's hair and forced him to look into his eyes. Niall's other hand ran along his jaw.

Irial licked his lips invitingly, unable to hide his smirk.

"Don't fuck up again."

"And if I do?"

It was Niall's turn to smile, his words deadly sweet. "You'll regret it." Then, before Irial could comment, Niall released his hair and shoved him away.

The Dark King stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder at his former King. "Get decent soon. We have things to discuss." And with a sensual grace reserved only for Dark Kings he left.

Irial stood up and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke in the light morning air. His girls were also quietly rousing. The blonde one sat up fully, recognition on her face when she took in Irial. Her vines shivered in her skin with excitement. "Hello", she said, biting her lip.

With a deftness she missed, Irial pressed her body to his, his eyes alight with mischief. "Hello, darling." He ran his hand along her thigh, her vines wilting as he did so.

_No_, he thought, kissing her lips,_ it looks like I won't be getting decent for a long, long while._


	6. Chapter 6

_**I was pleased to write this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. And since I'm on break, I'm trying to update more. It's Irial's POV. I don't own Wicked Lovely; the fabulous Melissa Marr does. Enjoy and REVIEW!**_

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><p>Many hours later, when Irial had escorted- <em>forcibly removed<em>- the girls from his suite, he left feeling sated in ways he hadn't in a while.

Irial lit a cigarette as he walked down the crowded, narrow streets of his new city. It was past noon and the sun was high in the sky, casting angular shadows over the usually dark streets. Glancing at his cellphone, he realized that he was definitely late for whatever meeting Niall had planned for him.

Niall had also sent him a text message a few hours earlier saying, "Where are you?"

Irial had initially laughed at the idea of Niall texting him out of desperation, but regarding his own lateness on the other hand, Irial truthfully didn't care. He was far too happy about being invited back to the house to allow something so miniscule to distract him.

He stamped his cigarette out under his boot.

Irial surveyed the mortals that walked the streets as he approached the subway station. Fascinating creatures they were. They were everything, yet nothing all at once, flashes of longing, need, and excitement waiting to be freed. Their mundane existence was somehow important to them, somehow meant for more. Yet they were akin to beasts with their unholy desires and wants.

Because he was no longer Dark King, he could no longer taste their emotions, but he'd been around mortals long enough to know how they thought. As he descended the stairs to the underground abyss, he was hit with the scent of hundreds of mortals, going about their daily lives, running to this train and that, lusting after him or each other. _No, I could never forget that smell._

Irial realized that he didn't need to take public transportation, or any sort of mortal transportation at all, but he reasoned that if he was already late- _and bound to be lectured by a petulant Niall when I go home- _he might as well enjoy it. And being around mortals while being a gancanagh was definitely enjoyable, despite the dangers.

So Irial decided to take the pedestrian route back to Huntsdale- by subway train. The interesting looks he received on the trip were all worth the tedium. Some stared at him with lingering awe. Some gave him disapproving looks, as if they somehow knew that he was not human. But despite this, many mortals, women and men alike, stared at him with raw hunger in their eyes. Most tried to hide their lust with the diversion of their eyes or a turn of the head. Yet others were very bold about their attraction to him, making sure to voice it aloud and outright flirt with him the entire trip.

One girl stood out amongst the rest. Lila, whose name had been personally etched into his memory by her nonstop chatter, continued to lean up against him the entire ride. And whenever he turned his head, she would inhale the scent of him as normally as one would air. Faintly amused by her persistence, Irial made it his personal duty to say goodbye to her when it was time for him to exit the train

"Goodbye, Lila, darling", he'd said.

She nearly fainted.

When Irial left the train station, he was both relieved and overjoyed to not be around so many people. So when he received a phone call from Niall, he was far more excited than the Dark King might have hoped.

"Hello?"

"Irial, where have you been?" Niall sounded beyond irritated.

Irial grinned, allowing his happiness to seep into his voice. "Why? Did you miss me already? If you craved my company, all you needed to do was ask."

Niall took a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "Stop being an ass for once?"

Irial pursed his lips. "But if I did that, then you wouldn't lecture me. And that's no fun."

When Niall's angry silence could be heard over the line, Irial said, "What is it that you wanted, exactly?"

"Since you're already late, don't bother coming back to the house; I won't be there. Meet me at the Museum. Now." Then he paused. "And I expect you to show."

Irial smiled impishly. "Of course."

Then Niall hung up.

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><p>When Irial arrived at the Museum, not many people were attending. It was an odd sight to see during rush hour and because of the popularity of the landmark. Though the Museum was nearly barren except for a few patrons and lingering fey. Irial curiously wondered if Niall had intended that when he invited Irial to come.<p>

Irial immediately knew where to find Niall. His Gancanagh always had a fondness for Mannerist paintings. Within five minutes, he found Niall silently observing a wall of Pre-Raphaelite paintings, transfixed by their beauty. Niall tensed slightly as he sensed Irial's approach, but his eyes remained on the artwork.

Irial silently stood beside him, their shoulders touching, pretending to observe the paintings while he stared unabashedly at Niall's beautiful form. Niall was wearing a different shirt since he'd seen him that morning. This one was a long-sleeved blue shirt with a slightly dipping neckline that Irial noticed brought out the color of his hair- _and the contours of his chest_.

The silence lasted for a few moments before Niall said, "Finally you're here. I find it amusing that you come and go as you please, even after I allow you to come back."

"Love works in capricious ways", Irial said simply, his eyes still focused on Niall.

Niall paused then, turning his head to meet Irial's gaze for the first time. "Is that what this is then- love?"

Irial stared into his eyes, amazed that he could say such a thing, but found nothing but unanswered questions. Irial remembered all of the good moments they shared in their past and present, moments he believed overweighed the bad. Irial tried to hide the hurt in his voice when he said, "Must you really ask?"

Niall stared at him hard for a long while before he resumed looking at the painting. _He's ignoring me. Again._

When Niall didn't answer him, Irial said, "I would move the world for you, you know. Spend days deprived of pleasure and warmth if that's what you wanted. Bleed myself dry at your will. I would give you everything I am to see to your happiness, Niall."

Irial took a breath, his eyes all for Niall. Niall was diligently staring at the painting, his jaw taut. "If you want me to leave, I will. It would pain me deeply, but I would do anything you asked of me if it meant you were happy. I would die for you if you asked it. That is love. That's the extent of my love."

Niall continued to stare at the painting, his eyes revealing none of the tangled emotions Irial could taste. _Anger. Fear. Sadness._ Niall's voice trembled slightly when he said, "I want to trust you, Irial. Truly. But it's hard. It's hard to give all of myself without knowing what I'll get in return. And in return, I expect your counsel and loyalty above all else. I need to trust you again, but only if you let me."

The fear in Niall's voice was one Irial hated to hear; the fear of being hurt again, the fear of being betrayed. Irial placed a hand on Niall's shoulder and Niall winced.

"For over a millennium I've dreamt of the day when you'd love me again", Irial began hesitantly, "when you'd touch me again." Swallowing remnants of centuries-old guilt, Irial fought past the intensity of his own words. "I would never hurt you. Never again."

Niall stared at Irial's hand, his wide eyes gradually meeting Irial's. He could hear both of their heart's beating fast.

Suddenly, with the silence of hope now pregnant in the air, Niall leaned in and tasted Irial's lips.

It began as a chaste kiss, one not of lust, but of affection. Their struggled breathing was evident as Niall slid his arm around Irial's waist, his thumb stroking Irial's heated cheek. When Irial slid his hands into Niall's hair, deepening the kiss, Niall's mouth simply fought harder against his, dividing and devouring Irial's words with his tongue. Soon they were lost in a seething embrace of passion. Niall held Irial bruisingly tight, his fingers digging into the bone's of Irial's hips, painstakingly close to his ass. Irial was lost in the movement of Niall's sinful mouth and hands, of their own heartbeats, of how increasingly hard he was becoming with each passing moment.

And when Niall pushed them both to the nearest wall, sliding tentative fingers beneath Irial's shirt and along his chest, Irial couldn't contain the guttural moan that escaped him. He could feel Niall's own arousal pressed against the muscle of his thigh.

The two continued to touch each other for some time, even when the few human and fey patrons walking through the Museum began to stare. It was Niall who stopped them, to Irial's surprise.

His black eyes were glazed over with lust, his lips tender and red. His voice was strained when he said, "We'll finish this some other time. In a more intimate setting", he added.

When Irial began to protest, Niall silenced him with another kiss that made Irial forget what he was planning to say. Then Niall pulled away and said, "Putting on a show is pleasant, but making you wait is even more entertaining."

While Irial struggled to say something coherent the Dark King whispered, "Consider this your punishment." Then he gently shoved Irial and sauntered away, leaving the former Dark King standing with equal amounts of anger and admiration.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Hi, everyone! I know it's been a long time since I've updated, which I apologize for, so I decided to make this a long chapter. It's also going to be the last chapter for _Unending Night_. I won't tell you much else for fear of spoiling so... Hopefully, you all enjoy it, and if you're saddened that it's over, _****Darkest Demise_ is still running! Thanks to all my readers! Please REVIEW this chapter!_**

**_I own nothing; the wonderful Melissa Marr does!_**

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><p>At the house, Niall was very pleased with himself. He'd once again relayed to Irial that he was the one in charge, that he made all the decisions, that he was now King of the Dark Court. Niall hated to admit the perverse pleasure he derived from commanding Irial now that he was King, how sated he became in knowing that Irial had to obey above all else. There was a sort of wicked power over his advisor that Niall hadn't expected to feel. <em>It was marvelous<em>, he thought._ What happened at the Museum was marvelous._ The way their mouths met, the sinful taste of Irial on his lips, the feel of Irial's hard, yielding body pressed to his. Irial's compliance made it even more delicious, as did the lust-ridden stare he gave Niall as the Dark King abruptly left. It gave him a longing for old times, when the two of them had explored lust in every way possible.

Niall smiled slightly, his own arousal still very apt from the incident. He imagined Irial's was too.

Yet, all the same, Niall was unnerved by the things spoken at the Museum before their lust had taken over. Irial had unabashedly spilled the contents of his heart for Niall to hear, his words void of any reservations. That part of their conversation was difficult to swallow.

Niall lit a cigarette and inhaled.

It wasn't the idea that Irial loved him that was surprising; he'd known that for centuries. It was being reminded of the extent of Irial's love that both flattered and frightened him at times. It often reminded him of what happened _before_, about how truly callous Irial was capable of becoming when his heart was broken. And that despite what he allowed to happen twelve centuries ago, Irial would put anything else in the universe above Niall, and that sort of love, while completely genuine, was still dangerous in itself. It was all consuming, both for the giver and the receiver of that affection. Once it grabbed hold, everything else fell second.

Niall frowned. Stirred his wine. Glanced at his watch.

Irial hadn't come home yet, and they'd spoken two hours ago. An irrational shiver of panic coursed Niall. _What if he never does? Has my toying driven him away?_

He suddenly had to remind himself how impractical he sounded. _I shouldn't worry myself over Irial. He can take care of himself._

Instead, Niall got up, grabbed his overcoat, sent Irial a text message indicating where to find him, and stepped into the chilly night air. Seth had called him earlier for a game of darts. And since Irial was being nonresponsive, Niall was game to indulge him. And at least it would take his mind off of more complicated matters. _Like my relationship with the one faery I hate to love._

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><p>Irial was across town, trying to make himself anything less than the unfocused mess he was at the moment. Niall had done it again; toyed with him. This time, however, instead of being upset, Irial was wiling to playing along.<p>

But first he needed to clear his head. Niall was still on his mind, his musky scent lingering in his nose, his lips still a breath from his. It was agonizing.

After Niall left, Irial had been reduced to numbness; his knees were weak, he was painfully hard. _Which is definitely not like me. _Irial was usually the seductive one, the manipulative one, the one who left others feeling exactly as he was now; disoriented.

Irial took a breath to clear his head. Despite his current discomfort, admittedly a part of Irial admired Niall's brashness. It was clever, and sneaky at that, but also incredibly sexy. And made him want to fuck his Gancanagh like there was no tomorrow.

_But that would wait for now._ First, he business to attend to. And although it pained him, there were more important matters at hand than his throbbing member. His King had sent him a message ordering that he come to the Crow's Nest within the next hour or so.

Irial disliked the hole-in-the-wall bar that Niall and the half-mortal boy liked to frequent, but that was the irony of being a subject, wasn't it? You did as you were told, despite your feelings. And despite the major arousal you had yet to shake off.

_Well_, he thought inwardly, a grin tugging his mouth, _this should be fun._

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><p>The Crow's Nest, as it was called, was just as Irial remembered; small and badly worn, with a local clientele and even more local music. It was an unorganized mesh of patched-up leather barstools and chairs, small ceiling lamps, and scuffed wooden floorboards that, as a whole, created a casual, pedestrian vibe for the place.<p>

So it was a paradox of sorts to find Niall and Seth sitting amongst the burly, rowdy mortals who often frequented the place, looking- for the most part- unimposing.

_Two wolves amongst sheep._

Niall, of course, always oozed a hint of menace and danger, as was accustomed for Dark Kings. Seth, on the other hand, with his moonlit skin and ethereal glow, gave the pretense that he was vulnerable, even with his facial piercings. _Which is doubly false, seeing as the boy trained with the Dark Court. And by nature, all fey were dangerous._

The pair was sitting at a table in the back, speaking to each other in hushed voices. Niall let out a delicious laugh and smiled at Seth, who was laughing himself. Rolling his eyes, Irial approached the pair quietly, his presence made known neither in greeting nor word. Niall knew he was there; as Dark King, he could sense him. As he came nearer to their table, Niall glanced up, his eyes taking Irial in.

Niall gallantly swept his hand. "Sit. I'm glad you're here."

Irial stole a chair from another table and took a seat. "I was requested, so I suppose I'm not at will to argue." He glanced at Seth and said, "Mortal", in greeting.

Seth frowned and brushed his hair from his face with an impatient flick of his hand. "I'm not mortal anymore, Irial. At least, not here." He paused. "Although you know that very well. You wish to unnerve me, per usual."

Irial smiled wickedly, leaning in on his elbows. "Had I truly unnerved you, you'd be far less vocal about it now."

Niall glared at him. Seth blanched slightly, his emotions a feast of discomfort.

To add insult to injury, Irial added, "How does your Queen of Summer?"

Seth's jaw set. "Fine, actually."

"Not warming the Kingling's bed, I hope."

Niall's glower cut daggers into Irial's head. "Don't be an ass, Iri."

Seth smiled bitterly at Irial. "No, Niall. I'm not sure he's capable of such request."

Irial grinned. "I do believe I like you more now." As the silence stretched on, Irial took Niall's glass of whisky and drank, then replaced the glass. Finally he said, "So, there are matters to discuss?"

Niall shook his head, but his features did not soften. "Not particularly. I simply wished to speak freely. Discourse."

Irial pursed his lips, his eyes flickering between Niall and Seth. "You two were speaking freely before I came. Why not continue without me?"

Niall's jaw grew tight. "Because I'm aski- _telling_ you to be here."

"Are you?" Irial stood up, his eyes challenging.

Niall grabbed his wrist before he could move another step. "Sit", he hissed, his eyes boring into Irial's.

"Why? Is your… _Seth_ not enough company for you?"

Niall's flux of emotions hit Irial hard. Irial glanced over at Seth, who was nervously toying with his lip ring. Niall's eyes didn't move from Irial's face.

For a while, they stared at one another as a mental power struggle ensued, neither one admitting how they felt, but instead reading the other's emotions. Irial tasted anger and arrogance and… lust? As he met Niall's eyes just then, he could see the heat in them, the thrill his King got from keeping him in check.

Enlightened by this revelation, Irial made no effort to keep his own lust hidden. Giving Niall full access to his emotions, Irial watched Niall's eyes roam over him. In them, he saw the same underlying hunger from the Museum, the promise of more sexual encounters, and bedrooms trysts. A gasp escaped his King as Irial's emotions flooded him like a delicious feast. Niall tightened his grip on Irial's wrist.

When Irial opened his mouth to speak, Niall stood up, intentionally invading Irial's space, his hand still on his former King.

"The house", he growled. "Now."

Irial glanced back at Seth, who was turning faint pink. "What about him?"

Niall shook his head, eyes still on Irial. "He'll be fine." Then almost apologetically to Seth, "Excuse us for a moment?"

Seth shrugged, his eyes staring down at his drink. "It's cool. Handle… things."

Then, without a moment's delay, the two immersed themselves in shadows and disappeared.

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><p>At the house, the immense hunger they felt was something neither of them prepared for. The buildup of anger, frustration, and aggression spilled onto them both, and the result was raw lust. Their mouths met before either could get in the door, and by then, Irial knew they wouldn't make it to the bedroom. Instead, they both fell in a tangle of limbs on the study's plush carpet, moaning profusely. Niall straddled Irial's waist, his fingers connecting with Irial's dark, silky locks.<p>

Niall rubbed himself against Irial in a rhythmic motion, the hot friction causing the former Dark King to cry out against Niall's mouth. Irial was too eager to move at a gradual pace. He slid his hands underneath Niall's shirt, his fingers eliciting moans as they traced his nipples.

With haste, Niall removed his shirt and attacked Irial's lips again, his tongue exploring the cavity of his mouth, mimicking sex, his body pressed to his. Irial grabbed onto Niall's slender hips and slid his fingers beneath the hem of his pants, his fingers gripping his bare ass. Niall growled low in his throat and broke away from the kiss, reveling in the feel of Irial's strong fingers running along his bottom. Then he lowered his head and tasted Irial's lips again, pausing to lick along the side of his throat, and then slowly down Irial's chest, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake.

When he got to the hem of Irial's pants, he roughly pulled them down his hips, stopping to appreciate Irial's very erect member. Then Niall proceeded to swallow his former King to the hilt. The struggled pant Irial elicited was one of pure lust, his eyes fluttering, his spine bowing. With shaky fingers, Irial grabbed the back of Niall's head, writhing as he watched his Gancanagh's mouth stroke him.

"Niall", Irial whispered, his voice hoarse, his brow slick with sweat. The hot feeling in the lower half of his body returned, screaming for release as Niall began to patiently suckle him. It was all too much, too overwhelming, but perfect all the same.

A brilliant heat rippled through him in that instant, a cry so intense that he was surprised the sound had come from his lips. His body spasmed, his vision blurred, and euphoria drenched him. Stars danced before his eyes.

When he returned to his body, the sight before him was even more arousing; Niall was licking the last of Irial from his lips, his dark eyes glazed and hungry. His hands were quickly undoing the fly of his jeans.

With a growl and a speed Niall missed, Irial tackled him to the floor, hungrily devouring the taste of himself from his King's lips. Niall complied by shrugging out of his pants, his bare leg wrapped around Irial's waist. As minutes went by and as the friction of their bodies created a delicious heat that left them both panting, Irial took the time to fully appreciate the faery writhing beneath him.

Niall's short mahogany hair was soft in Irial's fingers, some strands falling along his prominent cheekbones. And his lips were as full as he remembered them being. But it wasn't those things that made him pause; it was look that Niall gave him that was unsettling. Despite the lasciviousness in those dark eyes, there was the semblance of innocence Irial remembered from their past. They were the same eyes that looked upon him centuries ago with love and awe, void of the disgust or disappointment he'd come to expect. They told him that he was more than what he was, that he was worthy of love, that he was good.

In that moment, Irial saw the same faery he'd loved for so long, despite their hardships. The faery he made King to his people. The faery who was in his arms at the moment and in no others'.

Irial couldn't prevent the small, dark tear from escaping his eye, nor was he ashamed that Niall saw it. Instead, he met his King's lips again and allowed passion to overcome them both. Niall's hands found their way around Irial's neck, gripping his back, his thigh hitching higher up Irial's waist. The skin on skin contact was mesmerizing as they moved together, their erections creating a sexual heat that left Irial's mouth dry.

"Don't stop", Niall groaned, his voice a low, throaty noise. Irial pressed harder against him, increasing their tempo. Niall moaned in approval, his eyes boring into Irial's. Then in a hard, demanding tone he panted, "Take me." The dominance in his voice drove Irial mad with lust.

Without another word, Irial entered his King with a sharp thrust, watching sexual pain on Niall's face as he proceeded to fuck him. Niall cried out, his moans in tune with Irial's thrusts, his silky voice even more delicious with Irial's name on his tongue. Irial leaned down, swallowing Niall's moans with a kiss, his hips working fast to pleasure them both.

And as Irial struck at the right angle, Niall's moans became erratic, his words laden with sexual desire. "Ahh… Iri… " Irial devoured his King in every way possible, his body slamming into Niall hard only to be met by even harder thrusts on Niall's part, the two of them taking each other the floor of the study with animal intensity.

As they moved together as one, Irial was struck with irrational thought of staying this way forever, with Niall in his arms, panting his name. _Forever one._

When Niall arched his back in ecstasy, Irial felt the hot feeling in his stomach pool up until he was moving frantically inside of his King for release. Niall's body jerked, the muscles in his chest tightening as he became overwhelmed by the sexual heat washing over him. "Iri… ahh… fuck", he panted. The sound he let out as he came was the most intoxicating thing Irial had ever heard- _And it always will be._

And after one last satisfying thrust, Irial couldn't prevent the cry that escaped his own mouth as he released himself into his King, holding Niall even closer as they both collapsed from exhaustion.

In the silence that followed, they both lay there in each other's arms, a sheen of sweat drenching them both.

Irial glanced over at Niall, who was staring up at the ceiling, a hand running through his hair. "That was amazing", he murmured, touching his lips.

Irial smirked and closed his eyes. "You sound surprised. We were always amazing, Gancanagh."

Niall smiled slightly despite himself. "Indeed." Then he glanced around them and chuckled. "I believe we need a new rug."

"Then we'll get one", Irial murmured. "Dark Kings need not worry about such things." Then Irial stood up and extended his hand. Niall stared at it.

"Where are we going?"

"To shower. Care to join me?"

Niall stood up and smirked, his dark eyes devious again. "Of course."

Without letting himself think on it, Irial leaned in and met Niall's lips, savoring the taste of his King as if it were the sweetest of honey, as if he were drowning without him. And Niall did the same, his mouth firm, but yielding as they embraced. After centuries of being apart and a year of fighting, they finally reached a pinnacle that Irial would only have imagined in his dreams. A point Niall himself had been afraid of for so long. _He is my life_, Irial thought. _Being with him is where I belong. Always._

_Just like old times._

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